A couple of months
ago, while
reviewing a recent Realsound disc
with orchestral music by Vogel, I mentioned
a recording of one of his early major
works slightly pre-dating these pieces,
his dramatic oratorio Wagadus
Untergang durch die Eitelkeit
completed in 1930. This substantial
piece of music is a key work in his
output as well as an important landmark
in his musical progress. Besides the
earlier 3 Sprechliedern nach August
Stramm (1922), Wagadus
Untergang is Vogelís first major
work in which he used a speaking chorus,
which was to become one of his trade
marks. This, however, was not particularly
new then since Milhaud had already used
a speaking chorus in his Choéphores
Op.23 (1915); but Vogel was
to make it entirely his own in many
later works such as in Thyl Claes
(Part I in 1938 and 1941/2, Part II
in 1943/5) and Arpiade
(1954), to mention but two of them.

The oratorio is based
on an episode from Dausi, the
heroic tale of the North West African
Berber tribe, published by Leo Frobenius.
The Dausi tells of the journey
of the Berbers from the coast of North
Africa, across the Sahara to the bend
of the Niger river. The migration, which
is narrated in the second movement Ode,
lasted several centuries and was divided
into three stages, over Agada (present-day
Agadez), Ganna (i.e. the old kingdom
of Ghana, north of the modern state
of the same name) and finally as far
as Silla (near present-day Segu), close
to the town of Ouagadougou. As Claudio
Danuser rightly remarks in his excellent
notes, Wagadu is not a mere place name,
but rather symbolises State and Fatherland
in the spiritual meaning. The fate of
Wagadu is told in the second movement
Ode and briefly recapitulated
in the Finale: Wagadu has fallen four
times, through vanity, through a breach
of trust, through greed and through
strife; but on each occasion, it re-emerged
in new glory. On the fifth occasion,
Wagadu re-appears in the hearts of men.
The core of the oratorio, however, deals
with the story of Gassire, which depicts
the downfall of the rulers of Dierra
and the first migration to the South.
Gassire, the son of the old king Nganamba,
would like to reign in his fatherís
place and wishes the king was dead (the
Freudian implication that Vogel found
in the tale). An old sage prophesies
that Gassire would carry a lute and
sing the Dausi, which means that
Gassire will not become a king but a
bard, for only bards can sing the Dausi.
The lute, however, cannot sing by itself
for "wood cannot sing"; but
it must be carried out in battles and
soak blood. "But this will be the
downfall of Wagadu". So, Gassire
goes into battle seven times and looses
seven of his eight sons; and, though
his sonsí blood dripped onto the lute,
the lute does not sing. Gassire and
his family are driven out of Dierra,
and set off on their journey to the
South. One night, the lute begins to
sing. At that very moment, the old king
dies. Gassire mourns his fatherís death,
and Wagadu falls for the first time.

Musically speaking,
besides the still tentative use of speaking
chorus and of some sort of Sprechgesang,
the oratorio is laid-out along fairly
traditional patterns alternating choral
movements, arias, battle choruses (Kampfchor),
laments (Klagechor) and ensembles.
The musical idiom, too, is clearly of
its times, often reminiscent of, say,
Hindemith or Weill. The most striking
feature of Vogelís oratorio is the absence
of any traditional orchestral forces
imaginatively replaced by a saxophone
quintet resourcefully used throughout
the piece. In a very interesting article
(in German only) printed in the insert
notes, Vogel explains that he did not
want to use a traditional orchestra,
that he considered scoring the piece
for a symphonic wind ensemble which
he nevertheless found lacking in homogeneity
and that he finally decided for a saxophone
quintet which covers a wide range while
preserving a specific, uniform sound
palette. I must say that the sounds
and the powerful expression he draws
from such ensemble are quite stunning
and remarkably effective.

The score was completed
in 1930 and published by Bote &
Bock in 1931. Hermann Scherchen planned
to perform it as soon as possible. The
political situation in Germany at that
time (i.e. 1933) brought the project
to nought. The piece was eventually
first performed in 1935 during the World
Fair in Brussels. Scherchen conducted
the first performance at the Palais
des Beaux Arts. In 1936, Albert Coates
conducted it with the BBC Chorus whereas
another performance took place in 1938
in Basel. The performing material was
destroyed during World War II when Berlin
was heavily hit by bombs. Fortunately
enough, the composer was able to reconstruct
the piece from his sketches (this was
completed in 1948), and Ricordi published
it in 1950. It then was performed again
in Zürich in 1955 and eventually
revived in 1968 during the Holland Festival,
which is what we have here.

Our memory often "moves
in mysterious ways". I quite remember
reading about this live performance
of Wagadus Untergang during
the 1968 Holland Festival, but I had
completely forgotten its release on
a double LP set published by Ex-Libris
in 1973. On the occasion of the centenary
of Vogelís birth, Musiques Suisses
decided to re-issue it in CD format.
While showing its age, the recorded
sound is still quite good. I for one
was also very happy to have such a vivid
testimony of Léonce Grasí and
of the Belgian Saxophone Ensembleís
artistry available again.

Vogel regularly set
words by his friend Hans Arp as in Arpiade
and Worte, the latter
included here. He scored Worte
("Words") for two female speaking
voices and string orchestra (the piece
had been commissioned by the festival
Strings Lucerne and their conductor
Rudolf Baumgartner). When heard immediately
after Vogelís early experiments with
speaking voices in Wagadus Untergang,
the writing for voices is more adventurous
and more sophisticated. The often virtuoso
part for voices is precisely notated,
and calls for a good deal of agility
and subtlety on the speakersí part,
whereas the string writing is simply
superb. Arpís long poem deals, as it
were, with all the possible aspects
of words. It is a rather difficult text,
with many word plays, that obviously
meant much to the composer who has detailed
his approach and analysis of the poem
in another interesting essay printed
in the booklet. A rather demanding work
that only yields its many secrets on
(many) repeated hearings.

This is not the case
with the deeply moving elegy Abschied
("Farewell") composed in memory
of the Zürich patron of the arts,
Karl Weber, the husband of the pianist
Margrit Weber whom some of you will
surely remember for her recordings of
contemporary music made for Deutsche
Gramophon. The music here speaks for
itself, and does not call for any further
comments. Though stylistically more
advanced than, say, Barberís celebrated
Adagio, it could become
as popular, for it is a very moving
piece, for all its brevity and restraint.

This is an important
release by all counts, and one that
has been rather overlooked, I am afraid.
Vogelís music deserves respect and consideration,
and is still currently rather underrated.
Releases such as this one superbly help
putting his music in perspective by
providing for a badly needed re-assessment
of his achievement.

This box is superbly
produced with excellent notes in four
languages as well as an interesting
essay on Vogelís output by Walter Labhart
as well as the already mentioned articles
by Vogel (Labhartís and Vogelís essays
are in German only). Thus, in short,
a major release that should not be ignored.

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